


Legal Tender

by bettervillains



Series: By The Throat [5]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Poker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 20:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7283344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettervillains/pseuds/bettervillains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh, don't you tell me for one minute, Officer Haught," she laid the emphasis on <em> hot</em>, "That nobody ever asked you to play strip poker before."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legal Tender

**Author's Note:**

> Folks have been so kind to me in the comments. Much appreciated! 
> 
> Feel free to send requests to my tumblr, bettervillains, if you've got 'em. 
> 
> Fun Fact: Early Canadian colonists used playing cards as currency. Hence the title.

"And that's fifty," Wynonna crowed, "How's that feel, Dolls? Little itchy?"

Waverly covered her mouth, giggling as Wynonna whacked her stack of bills on Dolls's cheek. His expression (checked amusement) remained unchanged, even as he took the leather jacked Haught passed him. 

"Time to go, Earp."

"Says who?" Each syllable, slurred with the endless tequila she'd been pounding since the start of the poker game a few hours before, swirled from her lips as she tapped her hip for emphasis. "I'm the one with the big gun." 

He nodded towards the clock. Midnight. 

"Gonna turn into a pumpkin, Dolls?" she snorted a laugh, a mock gasp, "Or... are you Cinderella?"

By the time she'd finished the first verse of "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes", Dolls had her in an arm lock and out the door with a brief nod to Waverly and Haught. The door squeaked shut behind him, and even then they could hear Wynonna, still crooning from the parking lot, no doubt serenading her ridiculous winnings. 

Waverly glanced around the apartment. It was the first time they'd been alone together under Nicole's roof. The walls were hung with various photographs, all nondescript, all feeling as if she hadn't properly put down roots yet. 

"That," Nicole sighed, leaning back in her seat, "Was a terrible idea."

"Tried to warn you," Waverly replied, "How do you think she paid her way through Europe?"

"Theft?"

Waverly kicked her under the table, and Nicole jumped. 

"It's a fair assumption!"

Waverly shrugged, pouring herself another drink. "Little of column A, little of column B..."

Nicole leaned forward, gathering up the cards. Waverly shifted in her seat, glancing over the way Nicole's shirt clung to her ribs, the toned curve of her arms as she squared the deck...

As she reached for the box, Waverly covered her hand. 

"No rule says we can't keep playing." 

Nicole raised an eyebrow. "How? Dolls took the chips, and your sister took all my money." 

"Maybe we don't need 'em." 

Nicole's brow furrowed. 

"We don't?" 

Waverly shook her head. Raised an eyebrow. Bit her lip. Still, nothing.

"I don't —"

"Oh, don't you tell me for one minute, Officer Haught," she laid the emphasis on _hot_ , "That nobody ever asked you to play strip poker before." 

Nicole blinked. 

"Wow. Really?"

Nicole shrugged. "College was a scholarship. Spent a lot of time studying, not much one for parties, clubs... Then the academy, then... Here." 

Waverly squeezed her hand. 

"Better unlace your boots now, then, officer," she said with a smirk, "I'm very good." 

Unfortunately, Lady Luck doesn't take too well to boasting. 

"Are you KIDDING me," Waverly hissed, "You're cheating!"

"I'm not," Nicole laughed, tossing down her fourth full house, "I just keep getting them!"

Waverly scowled. She had already stripped off her scarf, sweater, and shoes. All that remained was her jeans, shirt, and...

Nicole, on the other hand, was bootless and beltless, and otherwise clothed. 

"Not fair," Waverly grumbled, reaching for the zip of her jeans, "Whole business was my idea, and you're just sitting pretty..."

Nicole smiled, "I know." 

She kicked her jeans across the room, the stark black of her underwear a sheer contrast with her skin. Nicole blinked, lost in the expanse of her waist, hips, thighs, stared even as Waverly continued her complaints, then huffed again, then waved a hand in her face —

"Nicole?"

"Huh?"

"Your deal." 

Nicole snapped back to reality, swallowed hard. Her fingers, usually full of surefire finesse, fumbled with every shuffle. 

Waverly smiled. The game (perhaps the excess of drink, too) had brought out a side of Nicole she hadn't considered even considering — a shyness, a throwback to a day before bulletproof vests and traffic tickets, before a sureness of self and a determination to get what she wanted... 

"So you've got... Three more? And then I win, right?"

"Uhuh." 

Nicole's cheeks were rapidly approaching crimson, but she managed some ghost of a nod, even a semi-confident, "Cool." 

When Waverly lost her shirt, however, Nicole fell apart completely. 

"Oh, my apologies," Waverly smiled, running a hand through her hair, "Is that distracting?"

Nicole swallowed, mouth dry, reaching for her drink. 

"Unless you want to lend me a bra..."

Nicole shook her head. "I'm fine. Just worried you might be... cold." 

Waverly shrugged, slowly, rolling her shoulders back with practiced grace. "I'll survive." 

After that, Nicole started losing. Badly. No matter how good a hand she pulled, Waverly's seemed to top it, and before too long she was down to her skivvies. 

"Damn it —" she muttered, glaring down at her hand, a mess of low point cards. 

Waverly was wearing a smirk like it was crowning her queen of diamonds. 

"What do you think, officer?" She reached out, stroking Nicole's knuckles, "Care to double down?"

Nicole's heart thudded in her chest, glancing down at Waverly's hand. It was one thing to look, but touch... Touch had a way of sparking things, a four alarm fire in an oil refinery. When she met Waverly's eyes again, the centers of her own were dark as spades. 

"Name it."

Waverly shivered. 

"Top card," she murmured, "High card takes the lot." 

Nicole set her hand aside, save one. Waverly did the same. Eyes focused on each other's fingers, they laid them down...

Nicole's ten of clubs winked in the lamplight, and Waverly's queen of hearts winked back. 

Nicole stood, crossing around the table to her, unhooking her bra and tugging the hem of her underwear down as she went, kicking them aside and tossing her bra over the couch to somewhere in the living room. Waverly was on her feet in seconds, arms around her neck, and for a moment there was only the sound of cicadas in the frontier beyond Nicole's front door. 

A sound Waverly didn't hear. She heard nothing, nothing but the brush of Nicole's hair under her fingertips, felt nothing but the touch of her lips — it had hardly been two days, and still it had been too long. 

She gasped when Nicole lifted her onto the table, hands under her thighs, supporting her as she tugged the last scrap of clothing between them away. 

"But —"

Nicole paused, waiting. 

"I won," Waverly finished, dumbly. 

Nicole glanced down at the black garment in her hands before tossing it aside. Waverly reached for her, for another kiss, but Nicole was kneeling, hooking her legs over her shoulder —

The first kiss to her thigh made Waverly's head spin. Nicole dragged her tongue over her skin, felt her pulse hammering under the surface, pausing to kiss harder, an X to mark the spot. When she looked up again, Waverly was shaking, cheeks flushed. 

"I know." 

With that, she lifted her lips to her prize, claiming, and if Waverly understood she didn't have the words to express it — every delicate graze of teeth, every flick and swirl of her tongue, each flutter and movement and sigh into her dismantled conscious thought, made any movement impossible but a tug on her hair to —

"Don't stop —" the words were desperate, hoarse. She didn't care. "God, Nicole, don't —"

She did stop, then, only for a moment, only long enough for a low whine from Waverly, only long enough to tease her fingertips, to thrust quickly, and again, to curl — 

Waverly's head jerked back, a throaty groan, "Oh, fu—"

The word died in her throat, overtaken by the moan that streamed, torrented from her chest, crashing over her as her legs wrapped, holding her in place as her hips bucked, riding out the high until the last synapse had fired and died away...

Nicole stroked her thighs until they relaxed, coated with sweat, leaning over her prone form to kiss her chest, wet fingers stroking over her stomach. 

"I cheated," murmured Waverly, softly, and Nicole smiled, kissing her jaw. 

"I know."


End file.
